A Perfect Death Read Online Free PDF

big thing of working with the
     archaeological team … even put on exhibitions of the finds for the local community. It’s done their reputation in the area
     no end of good.’ He sat back in his chair. That covered just about everything. Carrot and stick.
    ‘So you can’t give me a timescale?’
    ‘It all depends what we find down there, Mr Bright. But I assure you, we won’t take any longer than necessary.’
    Bright looked as if he didn’t believe him, but smiled all the same – with his mouth if not with his eyes.
    ‘I’ll see what I can find about the nineteen eighties dig. Perhaps their findings will help to hurry things up a bit.’ Neil
     offered this verbal olive branch, aware that he’d heard rumours that there’d been something strange about this previous excavation:
     something that might even take him some time to sort out. But he wasn’t letting Bright know this.
    There were some professional mysteries he was keeping to himself.
    ‘You’re not going to look for him at that restaurant. You can’t.’ Pam Peterson stood blocking the way.
    ‘We can go there for lunch if you like,’ said Wesley.
    ‘So you can sneak off into the kitchens and start asking questions. Ian Rowe’s unreliable. He couldn’t be bothered to turn
     up. End of story.’
    ‘But he said he was worried about that friend of his … Nadia. I’d like to have a quick look at those e-mails he mentioned,
     just to make sure there’s nothing to panic about. It won’t take long. I promise.’ Wesley almost wished he’d just disappeared
     off on his own and not bothered telling Pam of the nagging worry he’d felt since Rowe hadn’t turned up at their rendezvous.
     He’d tried to convince himself that there was some simple explanation. Rowe had been waylaid somehow and, not having Wesley’s
     mobile number, he’d been unable to let him know. This was the sensible explanation. But a persistent voice in Wesley’s head
     was telling him it was the wrong one.
    Pam looked exasperated but then she touched his hand. ‘OK, I know you won’t be happy until you’ve checked it out. But just
     remember you’re not at work now.’
    For a moment the image of Gerry Heffernan flashed into Wesley’s mind, sitting at one of the nearby restaur-ant tables, tucking
     into a large meal and a vat of wine. If Gerry had been there he’d probably have told him to forget all about Ian Rowe and
     concentrate on enjoying his holiday.
    ‘Come on.’ He took hold of Pam’s hand and led her towards the door of the Auberge de la Cité. The tables were set inside and
     the place looked inviting. Pam walked ahead as they crossed the threshold.
    The meal was more than satisfactory – the chef had done something interesting with sea bass, followed by a textbook crème
     brulée – and after they had coffee, Wesley waylaid the young waitress who’d served them.He’d noticed that her English was good so he wouldn’t be forced to trawl the murky depths of his schoolboy French in order
     to communicate. This was a delicate matter and the last thing he wanted was a misunderstanding.
    She was small and slim with short dark hair and large brown eyes. As he went through the rituals of Gallic politeness, she
     stood there attentively, expecting a question about some tourist site or the opening hours of the Château Comptal. And from
     the change of expression on her face, it was clear that Wesley’s first question was quite unexpected.
    ‘Do you know Ian Rowe?’ he asked. ‘I believe he works in the kitchens here.’
    ‘Yes, I know him.’ The way she said the words made it sound as if she regretted the acquaintance.
    ‘Is he in work today?’
    She shook her head. ‘He should be but he has not come in. The
patron
he ring his number but he is not there. Why do you ask?’
    Wesley decided it would be better if he came up with something approaching the truth. ‘I was at university with him.’
    ‘Oxford? You were at Oxford?’
    He was surprised. But